


The Smile

by fanwork12345



Series: What could have been . . . [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Jon connington POV, One Shot, Rambly, anti-Rhaegar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25597765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanwork12345/pseuds/fanwork12345
Summary: Jon Connington's thoughts on Elia Martell and her daughter.Part of the portrait series.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: What could have been . . . [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724029
Comments: 21
Kudos: 53





	The Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this was half finished so I thought I'll finish this and get this out of the way so I can focus on the last chapter of the Portrait. Chapter 8 of that is now up, the end spoils that s if you are following the portrait I recommend you read that first.. If you haven't read that story it might be a bit confusing but for all those who don't want to: Rhaegar won the war, crowned Lyanna his queen and Elia helped rule until the stress of it led to her death.   
> There are also too many Jon, so Jon Connigton is just Jon, Jon Arryn who is the hand I'll try to refer to full name and Prince Jon is Lyanna and Rhaegar's son. Hope that clears it up.  
> Mentions of death, incest, sickness and a little violence but it is pretty brief.  
> Feedback welcome.

Jon would always remember meeting Elia Martell for the first time.

It was an important day. The future queen was coming to Kings Landing for the first time. It would be the first time that they would meet. The weather didn’t seem to care. It was an incredibly windy with a smattering of showers throughout the day. Her boat had been a few hours late to docking, ruining the whole schedule planned. Jon thought about how the whole day was messed up while they waited at the gangplank. He had been honoured to be stood with the Prince while he awaited his bride. It was going to be a day that made history. He pushed aside his doubts.

Jon had been shocked to learn of the engagement. Prince Rhaegar’s marriage was one of the most anticipated of all time. The king’s rejection of Cersei Lannister had sent shockwaves through all of high society. Cersei had been a golden child, beautiful but Jon had seen her immaturity from a mile away. But at least she was healthy. His first thought had been, wasn’t Elia Martell sickly? Her prime role was to provide heirs so why choose her? Jon knew he wasn’t supposed to question the King’s judgement but he really thought the betrothal was not a good idea. It was true, he told himself Prince Rhaegar had to marry, he was the crown prince but surely there were better candidates? Any woman would be delighted not only to marry him but become the future queen. Jon knew about Steffon Baratheon’s failed Essosi trip to find a Valyrian bride but really how hard had he searched? Esoss was a huge continent and the blood of Valyria ran so strong? If Steffon was anything like his eldest son, he might not have put a lot of effort in to it. _That perfect woman had to still be out there_. When Jon had suggested another search, Prince Rhaegar had shook his head and said it was all arranged now. The dowry and terms of marriage had been agreed upon and the wedding preparations had begun.

She was beautiful he supposed definitely pretty enough but in a nondescript way. _Nothing special._ Dress any reasonably pretty girl in fine dresses and jewels and you could get the same effect. She had the olive skin and the thick black curls her house was known for. The bride was of average height but her figure he noticed straight away was very thin. Not fashionably slim but slim in a way that spoke of years of illness. No strong hips for bearing children and her breasts were small too, that was a bad sign right? Her friend had a much healthier figure and was a true beauty, one of the ones they wrote ballads about. Lady Ashara was watching the meeting with eagle eyes masked with a courteous smile which Jon recognised. He had heard of their close bond and guessed that Lady Elia was to her what Prince Rhaegar was to him and felt a pleasant affinity with her. The bride had pleasant manners and courteously greeted her future court even if her accent was to Jon’s ear a little off-putting.

The day of the wedding he had felt a deep seated wrongness. Jon clapped with all the others and listened without laughing to the drunken men’s japes and brags. He was already amassing a reputation for being humourless but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be taken seriously. When the time of the bedding came, many of the high born fools were eager. They seemed to find her quite pretty and the fact she would one day rule over them only added to her appeal. Jon did what was expected and helped carry her to the chamber. He could see she was blushing a little in anticipation and he blushed too. He really hated this tradition. To him it was embarrassing to everyone involved. He could see the women clawing at the Prince as if they were wild animals scrabbling over the last few scraps of meat. His hand tightened on her leg involuntarily and he met her eye and let it go. He could feel himself going as red as his hair, he rarely embarrassed himself like this in public. She probably thought he was some kind of groping creep. Prince Oberyn, who was supervising this bedding with a level of protectiveness that was alien to Jon who had always been an only child, shoved into him and he backed away a little. He followed the pack of courtiers at a safe distance, watching as the royal couple were deposited on the bed together. He had drunk the rest of the night away.

After the war he had been shocked to learn of her new position. “She is to have a seat on the small council and her word is to be listened too.” The now king commanded. Jon would forever regret not being in that meeting. Somehow she had manipulated both Lady Lyanna and King Rhaegar into caving into all her demands. Jon felt a lot of sympathy for Lady Elia as he had done at the tourney, after all it must be hard surely to know and everyone else to know you were second best? Being left behind in the city and then attacked must have been a real ordeal for her. This sympathy soured a little when he learned she had got the Kingslayer a pardon and talked herself onto the council. She was always offering advice as was her spousal duty but this was taking it to a new level. No Queen since Alysanne had sat in that capacity. Elia was no Alysanne. Alysanne was probably the best loved Queen of all time. She had ridden a dragon, travelled the whole realm and given the King so many heirs they needed a Great Council to decide succession. Elia could do none of these things, her health would never permit it.

Jon thought the work would become too strenuous on her and he was right. She had another bad spell but after she recovered she went right back to the council meetings causing King Rhaegar a fit of despair. It made him grit his teeth. Lord Arryn complimented her weathering spirit and told her no one would think less of her if she decided to take a longer break from the small council. Jon had nodded along and tried to look as supportive as possible. He had suggested Lord Arryn make this little speech earlier in the day, insisting it should come from him as the Hand. Lady Elia sighed prettily and said,” I thank you ever so much for your concern, it fills my heart with joy to know you worry for me but I think all of us here know that we cannot shirk our duty.” Then she looked straight at Jon and smiled that knowing smile that he had grown to hate. Her smiles he had noticed after studying her for weaknesses during sessions were often false. He had seen her real smile, it was the only time he could honestly say she was beautiful instead of pretty average. _It really did light up her face_. She smiled for her brothers, smiled at her children and Lady Ashara. She never smiled for the King.

So it continued for years, their court rivalry sharpening and further defining itself in it's little patterns. He became used to her sitting opposite him across the council table. He became used to thinking up ideas to share at the table and preparing himself for her arguments. He became used to fighting with her for the King's support. He became used to her presence like one becomes used to an ill fitting piece of furniture in an otherwise properly decorated room. So used to it that the room no longer had quite the same sort of appeal when the inevitable happened. She sickened again meaning they had to reschedule meetings around her annoyingly. This time he heard that she made a request to go back to her home. Jon thought about all the economic policy he could try to push with her away on her visit but it never materialised. Then she stopped coming to the meetings. There was a precedence to this so he didn't concern himself apart from the obligatory check ins he had to perform.

Until one day Lady Lyanna had come in so upset. She had rushed in her face pale and for a second he had thought that this was it, the Queen had died and something inside him just stopped. “He’s here.” She had panted out. The King had been showing him a promising translation but Lady Lyanna’s entrance of course distracted him. “The Kingslayer. . he just rushed in and grabbed her hand and/”

Rhaegar stood up in indignation, the picture of a King. He walked over to her and took her hand in his. Jon looked back down at the desk. “It’s ok, my love.” He said soothingly. “Go find the children. I’ll go and get rid of him. Elia should not be stressed out at the moment. How dare he come here when she is vulnerable like this?” Lyanna had nodded thankfully. Jon had wanted to say the truth: that Elia had either invited him or he had turned up after hearing her condition where she would welcome him with open arms but that would upset King Rhaegar to no end understandably.

He had waited a few minutes to give them privacy and gone to her chamber and found Rhaegar embracing her. She was coughing feebly and trying to move away from him as he tried to smooth her hair. It was wild looking, even curlier than usual. “Jon, he just left, go and get the captain of the guard/”

“No, no, what kind of message would that send? Please, I’m very tired Rhaegar.” Elia had stopped coughing, Jon suspected her recent fit had something to do with the Kingslayer’s escape.

“Then you must rest. “The King said quickly. “I was just surprised that’s all, that he would come here.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye to him. He saved our daughter.” She reminded him. He killed the king Jon wanted to add. Jon wanted to leave, he didn’t like seeing them curled together like this. It reminded him of the earlier years, when she had been pregnant the first time and Rhaegar had treated her as if she was the most precious thing on this earth. He pushed that thought aside. “Anyway go and solve your translation and we’ll have dinner together as a family later. You can sing me that song. I need to talk to Lord Connington about what we discussed. You are going to make the mourners speech at my funeral.” The last part was directed to him and Jon felt the shock bolt through him.

“I told you, there is no need to plan for such morbid things. We should wait to see if the new potion had more of an effect and the master says you can have a stronger dosage of milk of the poppy.” Rhaegar replied.

“You know how I feel about milk of the poppy. You also know I like to plan, it will make me feel better.” There they were, those magic words that she could use these past few weeks. _It will make me feel better_. Now she wanted him to make the chief mourners speech? The King hugged her again and left, promising to return in an hour but Jon knew it would probably be more like dinnertime when his hunger would remind him of the outside world once more.

She was propped up with a few pillows; her skin gleamed with sweat which made small, black curls stick to her forehead. Jon considered her, she really did look unwell but then she always had bad spells. Once she had recovered they could all move on from this business. If she recovered a voice in his head pointed out. He pushed it aside. “How are you?” he asked politely.

“I don’t think you care.” She answered in the same calm and soft tone she used usually so it took a second for him to register her answer. He had expected her courteous reply. They didn’t talk like this. She smiled at him serenely and picked at some sewing on her lap.

“I am offended by your suggestion. I care- I am concerned about your health.” Why had she said that? Broken their code? And he did care the indignant part of his brain thought, it wasn’t as if he had wished on her some painful death. “You have asked that I speak at the service.” He said, to fill the silence mostly. It was customary for a short speech before the High Septon began the first of several services. Usually it would be the King but Jon found he agreed with the Queen on this matter. The King had taken her latest bout of sickness very badly. It really was detrimental for his health and in turn the kingdom. They couldn't risk upsetting him further. It was an honour to be asked but Jon suspected she hadn’t meant it that way. He would never have asked the same of her. “I thank you for such a honour but I feel like Lord Arryn as Hand of the King would be a much better choice if in the terrible event of your passing were to make the speech.”

“I disagree.” She replied not looking at him. He looked at her a little dumbfounded. She rarely just outright said things as definitive as that. He didn’t either. They talked in the courtly manner that was demanded of them because of their station. It often felt like they were playing cyvasee (a game Jon hated but she liked of course after her brothers had introduced it to her) their conversation made up of intricate moves. It was like she had ripped up the instructions for said game. Maybe her condition had worsened? Why had he not been informed? She finally looked at him and tilted her head reminding him as she usually did of a small, delicate bird. It was a challenge. Jon wouldn’t rise to her bait. “Thank you for this honour.” She didn’t reply, infuriating him. It didn’t matter; she had pulled rank to win this one so in a way it was a cheap victory.

“I heard the Kingslayer was here today.” He said mostly to fill the awkward silence. He kept his voice cool and controlled like he always did but he was angry. How dare she invite him here? Her brothers, he could understand but the Kingslayer? It was bad enough that she had got him pardoned but then she had continued her strange friendship with him, blatantly disregarding everyone’s feelings towards him. He knew all about her letters, as if they were a pair of star crossed lovers. To invite him to Kings Landing without telling anyone. . . it was completely inappropriate.

“I told Lord Arryn yesterday, he didn’t approve but it wasn’t his place. And anyway Jaime didn’t cause any trouble.” His visit had upset the King greatly Jon wanted to retort but didn’t bother. It wouldn’t be good to be seen arguing with the sickly Queen. In her state she had attained a sort of power over certain things, he was sure she was enjoying it as much as he hated it. Jon knew what the passing courtier and servants would see. The Queen had an almost waif-like quality even when she was in her healthier spells; there was not a chance he would not come out of that encounter looking good. Her supposed deathbed gave her an even greater leverage over him. It was Lord Arryn’s place as Hand of the King to at least oversee important events such as the Kingslayer’s first visit to the capital since murdering the King. But of course she could get away with it now.

“Well I should leave you to rest.” Lord Jon was mentally planning how he would spend the rest of the day. With Queen Elia indisposed he had taken on even more responsibility. “If you change your mind about Lord Arryn please let me know.” “It’s almost as if you don’t want to.” Elia said her face amused. “Why do you think Lord Arryn would do such a better job?”

“Well you two are so close.” He answered without thinking. He wanted to leave the room. It was hot and smelly as usual but underneath it he could smell the sickness. It made him uncomfortable.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked. Her black eyes narrowed, again reminding him of a bird trying to read the meaning behind his words. “That he is in love with me perhaps?” she guessed putting her hand to her chest in fake shock. She wasn’t wearing that pendant she always wore he noticed. He tilted up his chin; he didn’t like being made a fool of. It wasn’t what he was insinuating. Lord Arryn was very chivalrous and always showed great deference to ladies of status, especially the Queen who Jon knew he admired greatly.

“I would never degrade either of you.” Was his short reply.

“Degrade? That’s an interesting word. Is that what you think about love?” she was twisting something in her hands. She was always good at twisting words. He didn’t deign that with a response and she smiled at him in a sad sort of way. “Do you remember what I said a few years ago when we debating Rhaenys rule of six?” she asked him unexpectedly. “Well, it was around that time. We had been arguing to Lord Arryn about the Iron bank? Both of us thought we were in the right and he had to choose? Then the rule of six came up, do you remember?" Jon did. They had been dancing around each other on the economic front when a matter had come before the court. A wealthy merchant had discovered that his wife had been entertaining another man when he was away on business. The wife had been stripped and beaten to death savagely. The merchant had argued that as he had not personally struck more than seven blows he was not responsible for the murder. He had performed his rights as a husband by striking her seven times and another man had done the rest. Both Lord Jon and Queen Elia had found this explanation unsatisfactory so they had banded together to create amendment in the Law to make sure if a person was responsible for the other blows such as paid for another person to do it they still had to suffer the consequences. As the incident had happened before the new amendment passed he was not tried and smugly went back to his life. Jon had taken a real dislike to him though as had the Queen and they spent a few intense evenings plotting on how to ruin him in a silly childish manner. After all that Queen Elia had looked at him and said," See what we can do when we work together."

"We do work together. We are on the same side." They were even if they disagreed sometimes. Was this about the Bravosi deal? he had thought. Was she trying to get him to cave?

"I know but sometimes I feel that we are fighting without fighting and we don't have to, we want the same thing. " Jon looked at her and felt a little embarrassed. " To serve the realm and to make sure my son becomes a good King."

"And to serve the current one." he corrected her.

"Look what we did today, by passing that amendment we helped get justice for a humiliated, beaten woman." she smiled at him, one of her real ones. He wanted to smile back but the word humiliated made him hesitate. Was this about the tourney and her humiliation? He remembered that day all too well. After the Prince had rode past her Jon had felt his stomach drop. For once he had no idea what was in that silver head of his. He was riding closer to him and then he passed him along to crown his true lady love. Jon had turned away once he had reached the Stark girl not wanting to see her blushing face and had caught Lady Elia's eye. He saw the hurt beyond the careful composure. That resentment must be building up inside her probably dominating her thoughts, making it hard for her to sleep and so on. She was not loyal to the King who had rejected her only to the promise of her son's inheritance. He smiled at her coldly in resonse and went back to shuffling pages. _Her smile faded and she became ordinary once more._

"Have a good evening." she had replied, not really meaning it.

"You too, Your Grace." he said back, not really meaning it. She went back to her chamber where he was sure she would sit chatting to Ashara or walk through one of her gardens or read her children a story. He went back to his empty chamber to try and sleep. They went back to their daily dance. Until now.

"Not really." he lied.

"I think you're lying but that's okay I'm not going to make any more overtures of friendship. That ship sailed a long time ago didn't it? Or it sank before it even set off right? I've known for a while now. I'm not going to spend the last few weeks I have to try and get you to respect or like me. I literally don't have the time. I just wanted you to make sure everything's ready for my brothers visit." Jon stared at her. She smiled one of her small, fake smiles. "You don't like me when I'm honest? But that's a problem for you isn't it, honesty?"

Jon bristled. "I am no liar." How dare she question his integrity?

"Not to others no." she said quietly, more to herself than him but he heard it. " I just wanted to say before this devolves into something else that you don't have to visit me anymore. I have given you leave so it won't make you look bad. Someone has to help Lord Arryn run the realm and that's not me anymore. I trust that you will do a good job. Don't look like that, good is what we are going for. Madness and greatness are too close together for my liking. I'm sure you will also do your finest to guide Aegon, to give him all the lessons he needs. I trust you to do that." He heard the subtext: the lessons the King might be to distracted to give to him. Part of Jon wanted to defend the King but he nodded instead. It was a promise he would gladly keep." After my death, I want the priority to be my children. Jon as well will be upset. The King and Queen might be too distressed so I hope you can step in and make sure everything is still running okay? Ashara will be there but I'm worried about her, she has taken so much on, it might get a bit much for her." she looked at him beseechingly and he nodded again. Lady Ashara was very devoted especially in health matters. Jon remembered how she had been there at both births of the royal children, staying stuck to the Queen who had of course found labour very difficult and damaging. Her body had not been built for childbirth.

"Very well, have a good day Lord Jon."

"Have a good day Lady Elia . . I mean Your Grace."

"It's ok. I know we are Lady Elia and Lady Lyanna to you, at least in your mind. Call me Lady Elia if it makes you happier." It was such an odd thing to say, true but odd. He wondered if the medicine had made her this way.

"Have a good day Lord Jon." she repeated again politely in that soft tone of hers.

"Have a good day My Lady." It didn't make him feel happier but leaving that sticky room and her presence did.

“The Queen is dead my lord.” A page told him later that night. A Queen was his first thought but he mentally bit back that correction. It wouldn’t do for that to be his reaction to the news. “How terrible. I will go at once.” He went quickly to her chambers, passing a dazed looking Ashara Dayne. And there she was. Laid out in the bed as she had been for weeks. The King was clutching her and Jon felt a wave of sympathy for him. He knew how hard the King was finding her illness and her death could send him spiralling. The King was running his hand through her long black curls while Lyanna looked at her body, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t here.” The King said. He was crying like his wife.

“How could this. . earlier she was so much brighter.” The Queen said.

“I am so sorry for you both. Please let me deal with this. Go back to your chamber and get some rest.” The King shook his head and kept running his fingers through her hair. “The children will need you.” Jon said hopefully.

The King tensed but nodded. “Yes, you’re right Jon.” He kissed her cold forehead and smoothed her hair so it fanned out around her dead face like a halo.

“My love.” Lady Lyanna said following him out of the room, her face wet with tears.

Jon set to work, arranging the body’s removal and its preparation. He watched as the guards and silent sisters draped her body on a portable stretcher and took her away. Then he went back to his room and methodically wrote a short and appropriate speech.

The funeral was a few days later after the Queen had been prepared for the services. Jon had been very concerned about the King. While Lady Lyanna had alternated between weeping and trying to comfort the children he had locked himself away and told him he was working on a project. He was so worried he had almost forgotten the speech. He rehearsed that morning and practiced looking appropriately sombre. When he stood at the dais he glanced over at the corpse. He schooled his features into an expression of sorrow pushing down a kernel of discomfort at her dead body on full display for the world. The person he had known would have personally preferred a more private ceremony but then again the Queen he knew understood the importance of ceremony. “The realm mourns the loss of Queen Elia. Her dedication to her subjects and her family could not be rivalled. The qualities she displayed are a role model for women everywhere as she raised her beloved children.” He paused, his discomfort growing. He had the strange notion that if he turned around she would be sat up on the dais shaking her head and rolling her eyes at his bland tribute to her qualities. He was making her out to be a saint but she was no saint. She could be difficult, manipulative and had a range of bad habits. She was just a woman. She was a Queen sure but one of two. She was . . .” I think I am right in saying that we will all mourn the Lady of the Realm.” He didn’t even know where that thought had come from; what did that even mean? But the title oddly fitted her and his discomfort lessened. Lyanna looked a little offended but many others were nodding and Rhaegar smiled at him softly. It was the first true smile he had seen since her death. 

The portrait, the 's project was very “well crafted” he told the King, which was true. It was very high quality. "The paint was clearly high quality and the frame very expensive" he added. Rhaegar had looked a bit disappointed at his response. Jon didn’t know what he wanted to him to say. He looked at it sourly as King Rhaegar began asking others. _If only this day would end. It was seemingly going on forever._ He saw Lady Ashara too late. He was distracted and when he turned around she was walking towards the King and Queen her eyes fixed on the former with an expression that disquieted him. She looked terrible he noticed. He swallowed a sigh, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had any time to prepare for this eventuality.

“You did this.” She looked a little mad he thought. Jon did not like the awkward silence that was falling over the court. A spectacle was not what was needed. He knew Lady Ashara wouldn’t want this either if she wasn’t so upset.

“My Lady?” he asked her, injecting as much force as he could. She flickered her violet eyes over him, recognising the hint, the escape he was giving her and dismissed it and looked back at her King.

“You did this.” She repeated again somehow even louder. Jon shook his head at her, this was not the time. He should have dealt with this earlier. Lady Ashara had been by the Queen throughout her illness and clearly all the buried resentments had piled onto another and were ready to explode. But not here Jon prayed, not here. “Her blood is on your hands.” He heard Lady Lyanna inhale sharply somewhere in the background. Rhaegar was looking at her, clearly upset.

Lady Lyanna was wringing her hands. “Please." she said. Jon buried the urge to snap at her to be quiet, Lady Ashara had never forgiven or liked Lady Lyanna , she would only make this situation worse.

“If she had gone home, she would still be here.” Lady Ashara went on. She really has lost it Jon thought, what difference would location make? Lady Elia had been sickly since birth, it lived in her like a parasite, sucking out her strength. This was inevitable. Jon stepped forward to stop this from going further, this woman was just digging a deeper hole into her grief. Rhaegar put his hand out a signal to stop so he did automatically. “All she wanted to do was go home. She would still be alive if you had let her go home. .you killed her as if you had stabbed her through the heart.” What was she thinking? To say that the King murdered his own wife? “To feel the sun again, the real sun. . that’s all she wanted. . .her home. Our home. . .it would have saved the body.” The body? Jon stepped forward more firmly, Lady Ashara was clearly unwell. He had her led out of the room. “All those gems and jewels, so tacky. “ Lady Ashara muttered, refusing to touch her brother. She looked very lonely too, even surrounded by all these people.

Finally all the courtiers drifted off and the servants began to clean up after the memorial feast. It was over. This dragged out messiness was finally over. The shadow over the Red Keep could finally lift. He stood in front of the portrait. The jewels he had to admit probably wouldn’t have been to the Queen’s taste. They weren’t to his. She had a fine collection of jewellery but they weren’t so. . was showy the right word? The picture itself was very lovely though but again to Jon’s taste a little idealised. She looked very healthy, almost as if she was glowing. _Rhaegar had preserved her image at the height of her beauty, is this how he saw her?_

“Do you like it?” Lady Lyanna asked him without preamble. Jon jumped a little in surprise. She was usually quite a loud woman, bounding about and jumping on horses and so on and he hadn't heard her come up.

"Erm, yes it is well painted.” Jon cringed at himself but Lady Lyanna seemed lost in a bit of a reverie of her own. He wished she would go away. She had followed her husband after he had retired. What was she doing back here? She turned to look at him, expectation shining in her grey eyes. He didn’t know what she wanted from him. He knew she was pregnant again, maybe that explained her behaviour?

“It’s not the right smile.” Lady Lyanna said softly then blushed. Jon didn’t look at her deliberately. They never really chatted. “Sorry, that’s sounds crazy doesn’t it? I thought you might- You know I don’t think I want to look at this anymore.” Then turn away he thought. He pushed away the thought that pointed out she wasn’t crazy, he did know what she meant. _The smile was wrong._ Then again he doubted an artist could capture it. “The artist didn’t capture it right and these jewels. Take it away. Just, take it away.” He looked at her speechless. “Did I not speak in the common tongue?” her voice was sharper now but her eyes were still watering. Did she want comfort from him? They had never had a conversation that had lasted more than five minutes. “Well? Put it in her chambers or something. Just, it can’t hang here forever.” Jon struggled to form words. “That’s an order.” He nodded and strode away without looking at it.

Later Lady Ashara's punishment was discussed. The King was coldly angry and his wife even more so. Lord Arryn proposed a short stay away to recover. The married couple exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"She will poison the children against me." the King said mournfully. There was a silence. A harsh monarch could have her tongue ripped out but Jon couldn't have that. Despite her disgrace and their complete loyalty to one half of a failed marriage he rather liked Lady Ashara. Perhaps because of her devotion, she was in a unique position to understand him and him her.

"Perhaps a trip to her homeland would be good." he suggested. She and her Queen had wanted badly to go home after all right?

"Yes. Make her go back there and not come back." Lady Lyanna said.

"Actually I didn't mea/"

"That's not enough. What she said. . little Elaena must stay. Rhaenys would be devastated to lose her fiend after losing her mother." The King cut in.

"I just think that she needs to recover from her grief/" Jon began.

"I've made up my mind."

Jon dutifully went to Prince Doran to explain the situation. It was completely stupid to feel guilty. Lady Ashara had been way over the line and he had never promised the Lady Elia he would protect her or her bastard offspring. She would love going back to Dorne, it was her home and he would help the King and Queen raise the children. No need for guilt.

“I know her passing will be hard on all of us.” Jon said (to the Lady in question on the day of departure) blandly, looking forward to getting a good sleep tonight where he finally might get a good night’s rest. For some reason he kept waking up at night disrupting his rest. He had a feeling now that all this was over that perhaps he would sleep through the night.

“Yes, how will you spend your days now?” Ashara asked him in a rather dazed tone. She didn’t seem to care for a response. Although phrased like a question it was a comment, a comment on how he spent his time. Jon felt very annoyed after everything they had all gone through he irked at her judgement. He spent his time very importantly. He was a member of the Small Council, he had the King’s ear and more importantly the notoriously private King’s trust. He spent his days working for the good of the realm and managing his own affairs. He was a great Lord and he had a lot to balance. She was implying what? That the highlight of his days was trading conversation and political bargains with the late Queen? "Take care my Lady.” he said stiffly. She wasn’t looking at him but at the two young girls Rhaenys and Elaena, their hair plaited in the same style looking small across the courtyard doing a complicated hand game. It was oddly sweet. They probably reminded her of her childhood friendship with the Late Queen. It was a sentimental time. Watching her walk away was a little strange. Queen Elia and Lady Ashara had walked into his life together on that breezy, miserable day years ago and now they were both gone. At least Ashara got to walk away some restless voice in the back of his mind piped up. He pushed it aside.

Years passed and his routine became more entrenched. He was an important man and he had plenty to do. He didn't have many friends but when you counted the King as one of them did that matter? As Jon hoped in waking memory Lady Elia began to fade, her brightest impression the portrait he never visited that he guessed was gathering dust in the halls. The closest word to describe their relationship was rivals and who missed their rivals? That would be ridiculous and unnatural. His sleep however remained disturbed. He would wake up several times a night and just not be able to drop off again for a few hours meaning he was never well rested. No potion helped so like with everything else he grew used to it.

It happened over time. She had always looked more like her mother. Jon remembered being introduced to the royal baby, it was clear which parent she took after. As she grew so did her hair and eyes continue to darken but her parents doted on her anyway. Rhaenys had a more womanly figure when she reached maidenhood and her father’s height but many commented on the strong resemblance. She had always been a clever girl with a studious mindset that Jon had admired but he hadn’t expected her dedication to turn to politics. The late Queen had bought the children to a couple of council meetings to introduce them to their futures as she had put it. Jon had pretended to humour her but he privately agreed with her that Aegon should learn kingship early. It would be good for him to know what to expect when he grew up. He may not always agree with the Queen but they both had one life time long held ambition which was to see Aegon the sixth of his name seated securely on the Iron throne. Which was why he became gradually more concerned.

Aegon himself was a wonder. He looked exactly right with his silver hair and lilac eyes. He was also intelligent, charming and had a good heart. It was the last one that worried Jon. The boy could be taken advantage of even by those he loved most and Jon was under no illusion who that was. They had always been very close, so close that it added to the burning rumour of their impending marriage. Aegon adored his big sister that was very much clear. He loved his father and brother too and Jon knew he was fond of his stepmother but it wasn’t the same. Jon suspected their mother’s death had bound them even closer together. It wouldn’t matter so much if Rhaenys didn’t fancy herself as some political activist. She could manipulate him Jon knew all too well. Aegon listened to Jon and the other good advisors but he also listened to his big sister who always seemed to be nearby whispering in his ear. Jon disliked this influence that she had over him and he knew however much Aegon liked and respected him, he could never compete with her.

Last year she had been bought to the council which had completely blindsided him and Lord Arryn though the latter welcomed her. At first she had mostly listened and Jon had pondered if the King had sent as her as some kind of spy while he was busy with her books. Did the King no longer trust him? But that theory came to nothing. The King even attended a few after her appointment, four in a row which was a lot for him. The King told him that she wanted to contribute and Jon had thought how wonderful. He wished Aegon was as eager. Aegon too attended some but not as many as his sister and she began to speak up more and more armed with that disarming smile of hers. To make matters worse she had begun consorting with the imp. Jon was a man that was quite hard to shock but that had been the number one emotion when at the feast last year, the greatest occasion in years the Kingslayer had rocked up. He was as arrogant and disrespectful as always and Jon had a horrible suspicion about who he was really here to see. And as usual his suspicion was right. Rhaenys had been corresponding with him just like her mother. That night she had come in at an opportune moment after the sensitive topic of Visenya was bought up. Rhaenys had unbound some of her hair and was wearing the colours of House Martell. . . it was like going back in time after Lady Elia had just arrived at all those formal dinners where she wore her House colours proudly and pinned up some of her hair to make it a bit more Northern. He had watched her then, greeting and charming her way into the court with Ashara by her side. He frowned. Why was she wearing that? It made him absurdly uncomfortable. She was not her mother and she never would be. Their interactions proved that. Apart from those two occasions he had always known where he stood with Lady Elia. But then soon after the feast Rhaenys was appointed to the council and began spending all her time with the Kingslayer's two gifts: the imp and Lady Brienne, a hulking, ugly warrior for her so called "protection." The rumour that Lady Elia had apparently asked the Kingslayer for a protector was apparently true. It made grit his teeth, the Kingsguard were perfectly acceptable, trust her to make a dig at them even after she was gone. A small hidden part of him wanted to smile though too. Thinking how she would have loved to have seen the white cloaked faces drop. Almost. The imp was annoying and far too clever and worse knew it. Jon soon tired of his worthless japes. He may not look like a Lannister but he was one and Jon would never forget that. As for Tarth? Who knew about that almost mute giant? The princess truly was getting out of his control.

It was like; he thought sourly she could do no wrong. The problem was people still either viewed her as a sweet child like the King or all they saw was the ghost of a mourned Queen like some of the idiotic masses. Septas and ladies cooed over it like babbling birds. The sweet, motherless princess the very image of the beloved Queen. Jon wasn’t blind he could see the resemblance but it made him annoyed when it blinded everyone else. She was a woman now. A woman who should have been betrothed years ago. The subject of marriage was a prickly one. As the crown princess Rhaenys knew exactly what was expected of her but still she remained unwed. No reason or justification. The Kings lack of interference gave Jon a worry that perhaps he intended his children to marry each other. Jon couldn’t have that, Rhaenys would bend Aegon to her will eventually and she might as well be sat on the throne. Suitor after suitor was scorned and yes Jon conceded some of them were awful braggarts or old enough to be her grandfather. She was a beautiful, cultured princess she could afford to be a little picky but it had gotten to the point of ridiculousness. Perfectly acceptable men received no encouragement. Jon couldn’t understand it. She managed to get rid of them when rarely saying an outright no allowing her to retain this perfect princess image she had been crafting. Her mother had started that when she was a child, taking out both her children to meet the masses and gain the peoples undying love for them. Jon had approved of this of course; the people should feel invested in their future King like a good investment it would return dividends over the years. He had heard that analogy before but who from? Had it been the Queen herself? No matter now, the dividends were currently paying out to Rhaenys and making her more untouchable.

It could all be summed up in his attempt to get his cousins boy a shot about a year earlier. It turned out the man was a bit of an idiot and unworthy of Rhaegar’s daughter even Jon could see that but it was the way she deflected his attentions. It was so deft and subtle he was impressed and then he realised she did it with all the suitors. Even the acceptable ones. Were her criteria for a spouse so very particular? She had always been a dutiful girl, surely she realised this couldn’t go on? It was like a performance to her, the compliments modestly accepted, the direction of the conversation being subtly moved, if he wasn’t so annoyed he would be impressed. Jon had even seen a few hopefuls waltz up to the capital in hopes of wooing her or her aunt Daenerys and leave married or betrothed to another young eligible maiden they just happened to meet. Jon knew she was behind these so called fortuitous couplings, his cousin Ronnet had eyed him doubtfully when he had confided in him in a moment of weakness as if Jon was some kind of paranoid freak. Matchmaking. Just like her mother. The game began again. But she had no experience with the matters she was meddling in. Jon had long decided the sooner she leave Kings Landing if only for a little while the better.

The easiest way to get rid of her would to marry her off but it was such a delicate subject to bring up. It would make the Kings face darken. Jon had begun to despair when finally he learned of the Queen’s plans to wed her to her nephew. His first feeling was relief that he would be rid of those watchful dark eyes. He pushed the discomfort aside as he thought of the late Queen who he was sure wouldn’t have liked this at all. In public Queen Elia had always been a voice for peace and coming together blah blah but he knew deep down she had never forgiven Rhaegar for picking Lyanna over her or the Starks for mounting a rebellion. She would have hated to send her daughter to the frozen North, if she was still here his plan would be compl- what was he thinking if she was still here? She wasn’t. And Jon wasn’t a man who liked to ponder what if, it just made him brood. Robert Stark became the solution to his problems. His sleeping didn’t return to its usual patterns but still, the answer was right there. Soon he would be able to sleep again. He asked Lord Varys for all the information he had on the Stark family. The eunuch had looked too interested for his own liking so he had explained how he wanted to know for the upcoming visit, he didn’t need to know about the private matter. The spider showed Lady Rhaenys no particular favour but he also seemed to not dislike her either. Jon was worried Rhaenys was beginning to win him over. She was slowly worming her way into the centre of things. Lord Arryn's (who had of course adored her) sudden death had stalled her climb to the top but that wouldn't stop her for long. The Spider he knew had no real loyalty, he kept his favour open, and making loose allies that he could easily disentangle him from. But Jon had noticed how much the council members were beginning to listen to her more and more. She may be subtle like her mother but he had known her mother and all her tricks for years. He knew he wasn't being paranoid. Everything he found was favourable. The King had come to him, telling him how Lyanna’s correspondence had resulted in interest between a possible union. It seemed Lady Stark had ambitions for her son or at least that’s how Jon read through the lines. Lady Lyanna had come to him a few weeks before the Starks were meant to arrive. The King wanted his opinion. “I think it could be a great match.” He said as neutrally as possible. The King had nodded but he looked a little distressed.

“The Princess has been a woman grown for a few years. Perhaps it is time for a betrothal to be at least considered.” It was the clearest hint Jon had ever given.

“Yes, yes I see. She has shown no favour to any young men?”. Jon shook his head. Rhaegar sighed.

“I have given her time haven’t I?” The King asked him and Jon nodded eagerly. “More than a year. It becomes clearer.” He said to himself. Jon was lost but the King turned around abruptly and left. Jon had known him long enough that he wanted to be left alone. But the interaction had given him hope. Winterfell was so far not even the Princess’ growing reach could cause too much trouble. Even if this fell through which was definitely possible due to the still fraught relationship between the two great families it still meant progress. A step in the right direction. The King was finally considering putting his foot down on his daughter's whims. The Spider had turned up nothing unfavourable; he had oddly offered an opinion that perhaps Lord Stark was not as enthusiastic about the upcoming reunion as his sister was. Jon dismissed that, the Stark drama wasn’t relevant. Lord Stark had agreed to come here meaning his outrage must have thawed enough. Young Robert was said to be handsome, strong and good with a sword. What else could she want?

"You will be greatly missed Princess." he assured her at the special dinner the Royal family held before the Starks arrival. Rhaenys had not taken the news well and even Lady Lyanna to Jon's incredible annoyance was getting cold feet. Rhaenys ignored her stepmother as she and Jon often did. Lady Lyanna had in Jon's mind served her purpose. She was no matchmaker, decidedly not a woman of the court. She could never hope to manipulate or try and control Rhaenys who resisted her step mother's attempts to bond as deftly as she dismissed suitors. In fact when she went to the visit her Northern brethren perhaps she would stay a bit longer, help her new niece settle in. He could change the King's mind about the Northern visit.

Rhaenys stared at him icily. "I have underestimated you, I will not again." she promised. She was angry. He ignored the stab of guilt. This would show her it wasn't acceptable to try and take over the Small Council or make secret plans with imps behind the King's back. There was a strangeness between the King and his only daughter now. Jon blamed her continuing singledom, by now she should be married, away from her father who didn't need the stress of supporting a precocious adult daughter. Jon was dismissed. He went back to his empty chamber and ate some cold food as he did every night. His chambers as Hand were luxurious and offered him every comfort. He had everything he had ever wanted. The Rhaenys problem might not be fixed but it was getting there and soon balance would be restored.

He fell into an uneasy sleep.

He was at a tourney. There were the stands filled with the nobility of Westeros, he recognised many figures except they were younger. He turned around away from the dirt tracked land with the huge, snorting horses carrying colourful bedecked knights. He was up high near the royal box, a place of honour and the flag of House Targaryen fluttered from it. He had a creeping feeling of familiarity which wasn’t surprising as he had been too many tourneys in his life yet this one . . . he felt a chill creep over his skin. He had lived through this. The day was warm like he remembered, the atmosphere tinged with a tension many didn’t want to name. He saw the King, his silver hair long and matted, clasping his shrivelling hands together. The Queen sat next to him quietly. A little to the side sat Lady Elia with Lady Ashara by her side, resplendent in their finery. He recognised Lady Elia’s dress, a deep red one that at the time he thought was rather ugly. He knew now for sure which day it was. Jon turned around and watched as the silver prince rode against Arthur Dayne. It was surreal. Everything seemed oddly bright, the sun bounced off the armour and the ladies fine jewellery. The colours were richer. He could hear the cheers of the common people and the titters of high society. He turned to a Lord stood beside him but the Lord looked right through him. He was invisible. The final tilt happened and the Silver Prince collected his prize. The wreath of Winter Roses radiated an icy blue, like a beacon of pure beauty on the top of his long, unbroken lance. Jon felt a strange tension within him even though he knew what was about to happen. His prince began to gallop, past the royal box where his delicate wife sat like a shrinking violet. The silence rippled over the crowds as he left his wife behind but Jon only had eyes for his prince. His prince who rode past him and stopped in front of Lady Lyanna, a radiant young woman Jon had barely even noticed before. There it was, the moment that changed everything.

He turned away to look at Lady Elia like he had done that day and watched her but she wasn’t there. His heart began to pick up speed, where was she? “He rides past you even in your dreams?” floated a voice beside him. “In mine at least sometimes he would pick me.” There she was, in her dark red dress, which did not suit her colouring, exactly how he remembered her from years ago. Her dark curls had no grey in them and framed her rather tired looking face. She wore a flower crown but the roses were a soft yellow instead of the more eye catching blue.

“What are you wearing?” he asked her, stunned.

“Oh, someone special gave it to me. Do you like it?” She took off the crown, leaving a few stray petals in her hair. This is a dream he reminded himself, Lady Elia was always very image conscious.

“You’re distracting me.” He said shortly.

“From what? Them?” She gestured to Rhaegar who had frozen in that moment. Jon could see all the facial expressions, frozen in that key moment. “I thought you liked the distraction, isn’t that why you turned round and looked at me? So you didn’t have to look at them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, why are you here? You should be over there. This is wrong.” She came and sat in the space beside him. A waft of that flowery perfume she would always drench herself in floated over him. He had smelled it recently, but where? The faint scent, somewhere unexpected? Perhaps a Lady of the court or even the Princess? It unnerved him a little. He had dreamt of the tourney before but not like this. This wasn’t history.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he said annoyed that he caved fist.

“Hmm no I think I’ll just sit.” He glared at her.

“I know who gave you that.” He pointed a finger accusingly at the crown upon her lap. He looked at her triumphantly but she just tilted her head to the side making his blood boil.

“The Kingslayer.”

“Call him Ser Jaime.”

“No.”

“Call him by his name or I get up and leave.” She threatened him coolly.

“Are you posing an ultimatum in my dream? We are not negotiating. That makes no sense! I- Wait don’t get up, fine Ser Jaime gave you that, I know all about your flower picking.” He had made it his business to know. Flower arranging, could they have been more obvious?

“You make it sound so disgusting.” She sounded amused again. “Did your spies tell you about my garden?”

“He’s a murderer/”

“Yes.”

“Kingslaying is one of the worst crimes/”

“You’re getting a little repetitive now, we’ve been over this-“

“You got him a pardon. He’s been living it up at that massive castle he’s somehow allowed to keep along with a vast fortune and unchecked power. Oh yes. Not that he’s been enjoying it, just locked himself away. Practically a hermit especially since your-“ he stopped himself.

“What death? You can say the word, it won’t kill you. As for Ser Jaime, he has no need for a pardon in my mind that was for everyone else. You are rather obsessed with him.”

“I am not.” Jon protested. “I know you wrote to him, now you’re wearing his flowers well. . .”

“Firstly all the spying was to undermine me. As my brother would say if you look hard enough for something eventually you’ll imagine it’s there.” Jon had heard her say that before.” Secondly, they’re not his flowers. They are the flowers of friendship, ones I offered to you too once. Thirdly, I’m not Ser Jaime’s type.” Fingering the buds of small white flowers woven into the crown, she smiled down at her lap.

“You are quite a bit older than him.” Jon conceded gruffly. She glared at him.

“Well at least we have not been degraded in your eyes.”

“I didn’t mean that, gods will you just go away now, I have nothing to say to you. I have never known what to say to you.”

She paused. “Is that how you feel?”

“I, you can go away now.” He turned his back on her and her stupid flowers.

“Back to the royal box?” she enquired a coolness now in her tone. He nodded focusing on Rhaegar “Out of sight out of mind.” She continued, “So you can go back to this. Watching from afar, alone as always.”

He turned around again to glare at her. “I’m not lonely.”

“Funny, I never said you were.” She met his gaze steely-eyed.

“Why are you here, to haunt me about Rhaneys? I’m doing what you asked of me. I am fulfilling my promise to you, to Rhaegar. I am trying to give your son a realm of peace and prosperity when he finally has to take on the burden. I, I am not afraid of you, spirit.” Jon cringed at his own melodramatic declaration. He was out of practice. He hadn’t spoken of personal matters since. . .

“What about Rhaenys?” she asked urgently, “Is she ok?”

“She’s getting married.” He answered, looking at the roses on her lap. They were beginning to brown at the edges.

“That doesn’t seem so bad? Why would I haunt you for that?”

He smiled at her. “Exactly. You can go now, rest in peace wherever you are.” Jon turned back around and waited for the moment to resume.

“Thank you. For looking out for them. All of them. Egg, Rhaneys and Jon they need people who they can trust. I know we didn’t always see eye to eye but I’m glad someone is looking out for them.” She was guilt tripping him.

“Flowers of friendship hmm? Is that what this is about? We could never be friends that’s just how the world works. How court works. Friendship cannot . .flower there. So take them and go.”

She looked at him. “Fine, I’ll leave you to your dream. Dream alone Jon. But don’t pretend I’m some vengeful spirit, just because you didn’t receive the crown.”

“I don’t want that thing, keep it, I have many other pursuits in life.”

“I wasn’t talking about this one.” She stood up clutching it tightly. Then in one graceful movement she threw it onto the tourney ground. It sailed in a high arc and landed on the muddy ground. Petals fluttered to the ground and the crown lay crumpled the nameless white blooms unravelling from it. Time unfroze and Rhaeger went charging on his magnificent stallion back toward the stables, running straight over Lady Elia’s last gift. The churned ground of mud and dirt left it unrecognisable apart from the soft yellow colour. Lady Lyanna stood and out of the corner of his eye he saw the brilliant blue still lovingly intact. He didn’t have to look to know she was gone.

On the worst day of his life weeks later he entered the Great Hall and witnessed true chaos. Princess Daenerys was sobbing comforted by the imp. Prince Jon looked like he was tearing up a painting so uncharacteristically viciously as if it had murdered his entire family. A Kingsguard lay dead on the floor, the white cloak sodden with blood. Jon saw none of it as in the middle of the room his silver prince was dead. His dragon blood stained the floor and he was being smothered by his hysterical wife’s embrace. The whole world seem to darken. Jon felt his throat close up with emotion.

"The King he, he has been murdered by the Queen." Rhaenys said her voice full of sorrow. She too looked a little less awful with only splashes of blood on her dress. Jon looked at the sobbing Queen and felt his heart harden. He had heard the arguments, seen their marriage in all it's rough patches. He knew now what he had known the moment Elia Martell had stepped onto that gangplank. What he had always secretly thought of Rhaegar's true love. _She was never worthy._ How could someone do this to the Dragon Prince? To his Dragon Prince? He had given her everything, laid his soul bare for all the world to see with that damned flower crown and how had she repaid him? Over the years with her unwillingness to adapt like a stubborn weed refusing to changed a little so she could bloom into a beautiful flower. What had she done with her time? Given one son who should have been a daughter.

"Arrest her. NOW. I charge you with the murder of the King!" The spectators took it all in and guards went to grab her as she clung to her husband. Her husband who had given her the world. He wanted her to see the hatred he had felt for. Finally this undercurrent of dislike could be voiced and seen in her disgrace. But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at her stepdaughter, her expression of one who had seen a ghost. He turned to the Princess and it was like seeing Elia's vengeful, bitter spirit set free at last.

She smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> It was much harder to write this POV than Ashara's. I'm thinking of renaming the whole series, "characters who obsess over Elia Martell and have strange dreams about her", seriously it happens in all my little stories. What do you think?


End file.
